Monday, February 28, 2011


Yeah, so I spent wasted something like 3 hours of my precious live life on the Oscars show yesterday evening, or otherwise known as, the Gay Superbowl.  It was, IMHO, mediocre.  James Franco and Anne Hathaway are pretty great performers, but they are not comedians, as they proved last night at great length.  James was mentally in two places at one time.  And Anne is best playing a jealous bride friend.  The Dance of the Brown Duck?  I mean, c’mon…really?  Then, the lady with the dress that looked like a mass of lace doilies sewn together dropped the f-bomb at The Oscars.  Real classy.  More appropriate for the MTV video awards.  Oh, and Christian Bale with his fake beard.  Is he afraid of being recognized as Batman?  Furthermore, I used to love Charlie Chaplin’s ballad Smile, and then Celine Dion had to go and sing it.  Another one bites the dust!  Last but not least, if getting kissed by Russell Brand is a requirement to receive your Oscar, I for one, would just tell them, “Keep it!”  [shiver]

Sunday, February 27, 2011


For the past week I was deprived of my modern conveniences – no upstairs a/c and no dishwasher. I had a small taste of what life might have been like as a mom in the 1940s. To say I didn’t enjoy it much is an understatement.

I dreaded the inevitable question three times a day, “what are we eating?” Immediately I responded with “WHERE would you like to eat?” It will truly be a domestic happy-hour for me when the dishwasher is repaired…tomorrow. Bleh!

Just imagine….in the old days, very few could afford washing machines, and of course no one had tumble dryers or dishwashers. [My Aunt Christine was a great story teller about the days of her childhood and that of my dad’s.] “A tub was hauled out on wash day and clothes were scrubbed by hand on the washboard then put through the mangle to wring them out. Of course there was no choice but to line-dry all the clothes and bed linen, or in inclement weather, drape them all around the house.”

Oh the thought -- the amount of work with a baby in the house must have been horrendous!

I’m sure it was awfully hard work for our grandmothers and those before them, but they coped. They didn’t know any different. I’ve been truly spoiled by my life in the 21st century – I’ve got used to my modern household appliances. Sadly I’ve come to rely on them to the point where if I’m without them I don’t really know how to begin to tackle the jobs the old fashioned way. Rather, it feels like some kind of survival course. Never again will I moan about loading and unloading the dishwasher.

Well, not this side of Easter anyway.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011


I started this blog for a variety of reasons.  One of the reasons being that I am so enamored with life and motherhood….my family in general.  Second, I began a blog when Keegan and Bailey were itty bitty but allowed it to fall by the wayside.  It’s time to step up and give them the recognition they deserve.  Third, I must share the stories of my life with Pete, the male version of myself – the adventure and laughter that simply envelopes us -- he's the cheese to my macaroni.  They are, together and individually, the coolest things that ever happened to me.  And lastly, a baby Roach is expected to arrive in the near future – end of July, more specifically.  I like the idea of documenting my pregnancy between now and then, and our life with "baby" thereafter.  As all moms know, you can’t put into the words the love you feel for your family -- everything in my life is better because of them!

Tuesday, February 22, 2011


Bailey sees a threat as a challenge, the ultimate test of her will. In other words, a threat is the spoken contract that she will promptly do whatever it is that you’ve banished, while she looks over her shoulder at you with a twinkle in her eye. Damn those hereditary genes!

Monday, February 14, 2011


I have to remind myself that just because you like someone doesn't mean you have to like sleeping next to someone. (Don't get me wrong- his sleeping options haven't changed. This is not a democracy, it's a marriage.)

Lemme 'splain.

I'm a bit of ambitious sleeper. My goal is to cover as much ground as possible. I am Lewis and/or Clark and your pillow is the Pacific Coast.

Pete is a Zen Buddhist monk. (Perhaps by necessity at this point.) He requires very little, sleep-wise: a pillowesque thing, a corner of a blanket (if he is especially lucky), four solid hours. He practically sleeps with one eye open, ready for anything. He rises for numerous bathroom breaks. He corrals the kitties for a feeding at 3 am or whenever they stir.

As for me, I've slept through thunderstorms, car alarms, and a good portion of my kid’s early morning antics. (I tell people that they slept through the night since seven weeks. I actually have no idea if this is true. Bottom line- Mama slept.) I can't help it. I am either a really stellar sleeper or severely vitamins D and B12 deficient.  My recent blood work negated the latter.

But back to Pete.  Damn his snoring!  Lol.

Saturday, February 5, 2011


I know that very bad things happen to good people. I know that cancer and other terrible diseases do not discriminate. Nowadays, there seems to be no one left untouched.

I stumbled on a website about
mothers living with cancer yesterday and I spent hours reading their stories; crying and applauding their strength and courage. I smothered my kids with hugs and kisses last night after reading what some Moms are living with every single day. How some mother's lives may be cut short because of cancer and I feel so thankful to have a healthy body at this point in life.

Thursday, February 3, 2011


While watching TV in the breakroom this morning, there was a commercial for some kind of cage fight – two hulking, tattooed, sweaty and half-naked men punching each other in the face. I had a moment of panic: what if Fric grows up to be an ultimate fighter? Those men are someone’s sons. What happened in their life that lead them to punch and kick and be punched and kicked for a living?

Although I enjoy watching it, I think ultimate fighter is the male equivalent to having a daughter grow up to be a stripper or hooker. From a parent’s perspective of course.  Oh God! Double the panic. Kid #1 is an ultimate fighter and kid #2 is working next door as a stripper. This thought struck me with terror.

What can I do now as a mom to ensure that this never happens? I know that it’s unlikely as they’re growing up in a safe, loving home and probably most strippers and fighters had a harder childhood than my kids, or even I, could ever imagine. But what if?

Or what if they grow up to be something else that scares me? A bigot, a bully, a drug addict? While my fears have the best of me, why not throw in premature death by drunk teenage driving? How about sexual assault victim? What about a quadriplegic from a tragic sledding accident?

That’s it. My kids are never leaving the house again.

But then they could become bed-ridden 900 pound hoarders on a reality show.

There’s no winning this game of self torment. The good news is that these thoughts temporarily make Bailey endless “why? why? why?” a lot less annoying. Also, it is kind of cute when she dances on the bed. Then again, is that a pre-disposition for adult dancing??
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